


Molten

by tygermine



Series: Merthur Drabbles [75]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Modern Era, Post-Break Up, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: Merlin hates getting cold.Prompt: Summer Son by Texas
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merthur Drabbles [75]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/969933
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Molten

Merlin may have grown up in Wales, but he disliked winter in general.

This winter, however, he hated with a special passion usually reserved for people who randomly stopped in the middle of the pavement for no reason. He hated it more than UKIP and reality TV. He despised it as much as any one person could muster when most of their energy was used to keep them warm no matter how many layers they wore.

He loathed it almost as much as going to Wagamama.

This was because he was alone this winter. 

Suddenly and without warning, as soon as the leaves began to turn and drop, Arthur had dropped him.

Their summer together had been long, lazy days exploring each other with the windows open and the sheets kicked to the floor. Ice cream flavoured kisses and illegal use of ice cubes. 

Sometimes he woke up from dreams of cool breezes and searing kisses.

Fuck Arthur.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Merlin had shown up, rather reluctantly, to Gwen’s Halloween party, dressed as warmly as possible and telling people he was Sherlock Holmes.

Which was fine, except that across the kitchen stood Arthur.

In a tuxedo.

Looking like James Bond, which was infinitely unfair as Merlin had once confessed to having a serious Bond kink.

What was he doing here anyway? Gwen was his friend first and he didn’t recall a shared custody agreement being reached during their fight when he came home to find Arthur had moved out. Okay, he’d packed his toothbrush, but still.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d lost all his friendship rights when he’d left Merlin with the sorry excuse that he didn’t have time for a relationship and that his promotion meant he’d spend more time in airports than at home.

Merlin had pointed ou that flight attendants seemed to make it work, but Arthur simply hung his head and walked away.

Their eyes met across the kitchen and Arthur smiled in that soft way that seemed to make his face light up and send warmth through Merlin’s chilled bones.

Merlin wanted to look away. He wanted to frown and turn away.

Arthur crossed the kitchen towards him.

“I’m glad to see you,” Arthur said quietly.

Merlin made a noise in his throat where all his words of vitriol seemed to get stuck.

“I’ve missed you.” Arthur had the audacity to continue. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He lifted his arm then dropped it again before he could touch Merlin and Merlin leaned towards it. Towards the warmth that seemed to radiate from Arthur’s very being. 

Merlin was so cold and he knew Arthur would warm him to his core with a simple touch.

“It’s your own fault,” Merlin stuttered. “You left me. You packed up your toothbrush and walked out.”

“I should have stayed.”

“Airports aren’t that great, are they?”

“I wouldn’t know. I left that behind me.”

“That promotion was all you talked about.”

“I found that the only person I wanted to talk to was you.”

“That’s not good enough,” Merlin found himself stepping closer and the chill under his skin slowly ebbing away. 

Arthur ducked his head, their foreheads almost touching. “Nothing will ever be good enough without you.”

“I can’t forgive you.” But he would. He’d do anything to have the warmth back. 

“You shouldn’t,” Arthur agreed. 

“I won’t,” Merlin closed his eyes as he felt his temperature rise. “Not now.”

“Soon, though. Right?” Arthur’s eyes were the blue of a bright summer afternoon and Merlin knew, deep down, that Arthur would burn through him like a hot desert wind, leaving him a desiccated husk.

“Maybe.”

Maybe he wanted that. Maybe he’d rather be burned out by Arthur than spend another day shivering in the frost of isolation.


End file.
